The kettle picked that exact moment to blare its message. The dog, still glued to Aydan’s side, howled along with it. She watched as the Lori woman grabbed it, hitting the off switch as she pulled it from its base. She filled a teapot identical to the one used downstairs and set it to steep. “Do you like it strong? Georgie has a sensitive gut, so we always pour hers first.”
“I must admit it is a pleasure to have the option of tea at work. At school it was just coffee or pop. I used to take a thermos of tea to class with me. Mostly chai but sometimes black tea like this. I don’t know this brand though.” For a moment she considered how easily she seemed to open up to this woman, before pushing those thoughts aside.
“My aunt in Newfoundland sends us a supply every few months. They can’t live without their Red Rose down home!”
“Down home?”
“Are you two ready to eat?” Doctor Marsh called from behind Aydan’s shoulder. She was making her way down the stairs with Georgie, in a fresh suit, following behind.
Was she really the woman who had been groomed to take over? A woman! She had not quite absorbed that part. Lori said they had groomed her from the start. She knew there were more family members in the company than just these two and there were men. Had this family, this company, really chosen a woman over a man, a man from their own family?
She followed Lori to the table and helped her remove the plate covers. Within minutes they were absorbed in the comforting aromas of the meal and Lori’s jovial retelling of some adventure. It was interesting to listen to her but Aydan was learning so much more by watching. She could admit the woman was stunning with those deep blue eyes and her lean, sporty-type frame. She herself was considered a tall woman, especially in her family where she stood head to head with her brothers. She had gotten used to her height and often used it to distance herself from others. She met very few women who were taller than her and she liked that, liked being able to distance herself both emotionally and physically. When she interviewed with Georgie, she actually believed she would be able to physically intimidate the woman because she was shorter. That hadn’t been true and of course Doctor Marsh was taller than Aydan too. Not by much, but still it had unsettled her. Now here she was lunching with three women she couldn’t pull any of her old tricks on. For the first time ever, she felt no necessity, no compulsion to pull away. She sipped from her water glass, casually taking in the view of Lake Erie. At that moment the simplicity of the situation was as clear as the late winter sun. I don’t have to bully my way with these women to earn their respect.
* * *
Aydan watched as Georgie used an infrared device to make measurements of the vacant space. Entering the dimensions on a tablet as Georgie read them, she now knew the company had referred to this office space as the ballroom and had used it exclusively for years. She had to admit it was remarkable. Tall ceilings, brick walls, exposed iron I beams, and the highly polished wood floors all added to the warm retro environment. It was nicer than the second floor although only about two-thirds the floor space. That probably wasn’t an issue, since they were using less than half the space on two anyway.
Over lunch Aydan had listened with interest as Dr. Marsh and her counterpart, Lori Phipps, discussed the estimated usage needs their businesses would face over the next ten years. It was interesting to watch them deferring to Georgie as if she was their boss, not the other way around. Of course, learning that Georgie was supposed to be in charge did make her think about the situation. Why would someone willingly hand over control of her company, a family company, to strangers? Lori had said she and Georgie were cousins. She didn’t know how that was possible, one being Italian American and the other African American. They certainly didn’t look like relatives, and what about having your lover take over as president? How could she trust someone like that?
“Total square feet?” Georgie asked her.
“Just shy of thirty-three hundred.” When Georgie didn’t comment, she rattled off the exact footage of the empty space.
“Okay…enough for…”
“I don’t know what it’s enough for!” she snapped. She wasn’t sure what was worse, trying to communicate with this woman or how she always assumed you had an answer for her stupid questions. Surprising her, Georgie walked across the room, retrieving two folding chairs from a heavy rolling cart and carrying them back to set them near the south facing windows. She sat down without comment, waving her hand to the empty seat.
Not sure what to expect, Aydan dragged herself over, slumping down without comment. Why bother? It wasn’t as if this woman could carry on a conversation. What she didn’t expect was being completely ignored by her. The woman took out her phone and was tabbing away furiously. Aydan was seconds from giving up and just walking out when a message popped up on the tablet she was holding.
“Read it,” Georgie ordered.
Confused but curious too, she opened the IM to find Georgie had written her a long note. Shocking her more, the woman began reading from her own copy; reading without the hesitation or omissions that drove Aydan mad. What the…
“Do you remember giving Dean Winowski permission to discuss your academic profile when your name was submitted for this post? And do you remember that we supplied a written release which you also signed allowing her to share personal information with your supervisor?”
Aydan opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell just happened? Thirty seconds ago, this idiot couldn’t string more than three words together and now she was what, all back to normal? This is bullshit!
“Answer the question!” Georgie demanded.
Somewhere between running or fighting, she choked out a yes. She watched as her boss began tabbing through her phone again.
“From my Tyler’s…notes: New Year’s Eve Open Pitch, 2016. Guest: Doctor Sandy Winowski, Dean of Engineering, attending with her…
“Note 1: The dean was sincerely thankful for the company’s long-term support of the engineering program. The two interns currently placed with DME have successfully transitioned to their new training spots. One is now working on legacy patents…The other has joined the Standards and ECN team at the boatyard. This student reports, in his mid-placement critique, that he has learned more in a few months than his first three years in university.
“Note 2: With the reorganization of DynaTech announced, the dean was enthusiastic about adding more interns to the work/learn program. While she was hoping to place two students with DynaTech, GD,” Georgie looked to her, pointing to herself in case Aydan missed the GD reference, “was not confident that her young team could provide the leadership necessary to offer work of value to the intern. When pressed, GD offered to personally supervise one intern next semester. Dean Winowski considered but urged GD to accept her select student immediately. Winowski was eager to discuss this student’s personal needs. I advised her that we would require a signed Non-Disclosure Agreement before discussing personal information. She agreed.
“Note 3: NDA emailed. Once signed, the dean will schedule a Skype meeting to discuss the student selected for this special internship.
“Note 4: I advised the dean that this internship would be very special. If UB wanted to place a student with the majority owner of the corporation and originator of three-quarters of all company patents, they had better be more than good. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I will not have it wasted. Dean Winowski agreed, promising she was sending her absolute best.”
Shocked, Aydan’s voice croaked out her confusion. “You can talk? What the hell…”
Georgie held up her hand, turning the screen of her phone toward her as if she could read the document from that distance. “Are you the best?”
Her objections and confusion petered out all at once, like someone letting the air out of a balloon. Am I the best? Is that really how the dean sees me?
“Aydan…in three months, you show…intelligence and…skill, but…working with,” again she pointed to herself, “chal
lenging. I know. I live it…this!” This time she pointed to the strip of pure white hair above her temple.
When there was no response, she started reading from another file she opened on her phone. “In 2011 I was flying a Blackhawk helicopter in Afghanistan. I love flying and I love my country. When the opportunity to serve a second tour was presented I did not hesitate. My primary purpose was not to fight or kill but to save lives and I reveled in that purpose.”
Georgie set her phone on the windowsill, turning her complete attention to Aydan. “I see your eyes. Have seen...so many times, this…disappointment. Now, here,” she pointed to her lock of white hair again, and then to her mouth, “don’t…not direct…”
Suddenly she stood and Aydan could see the frustration on her face, and something else. Was it hurt? Could she have hurt this woman, this woman who was clearly struggling to communicate? It had never occurred to her that her boss’s problem was not a mental deficiency. “Wait, you own this company. Then why aren’t you the CEO or at least the president?”
Georgie slumped back down but her expression remained open. “A smart leader…best person for each…job. I…think, design, and…I love that, good too. Why do…Marnie Pulaski, my sister…much better CEO. All paper, people…yikes! Tyler, true president…leader, planner…she is perfect. Lori too, builders respect…she loves…it. It shows. Now you…What do you…want, no…love?”
Dumbfounded by the question, she sat in silence, unsure how to answer. How could she explain her family’s displeasure with her life choices? How could she explain wanting to please her mother to someone like Georgie, someone who probably never had to please a mother and probably rejected all things family? Except she said her sister was CEO and that the Lori woman had mentioned her father’s retirement from the company. Skippy had said that his dad was president of another division and even his sister worked here. “Why does, I mean, does your family accept your…”
“Head injury?”
Aydan blushed. “It’s none of my business. Sorry,” she added, head down and feeling miserable.
“Look at me,” Georgie said but it didn’t sound as harsh as the order she had delivered moments ago. “Ask…please ask.”
It took a long time to consider not only what she wanted to ask but how and more importantly if she wanted to ask at all. “You and Dr. Marsh…they say you’re getting married and your family…” She trailed off, afraid to voice her confusion. Was it confusion? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what lesbians were. The truth was, she had kept her distance from everyone, not just the guys, or the gay girls. Sitting here, now, with this woman, she realized she didn’t care about orientation. Actually, if she was truthful, it was nice—no, refreshing to meet people living their lives honestly. And that thought hit her like a bolt from the sun. These women are the honest ones, not her family, not her brothers and their narrow views. “How long were you a soldier?”
“Airwoman or Guardswoman,” Georgie corrected, but the smile was back. “Yes…I lied to join. Had too but…times change. You ever think that you…”
Recognizing where she was going with the question, she jumped in, offering, “The military? No, not me, I think my family…” And without warning the tears began to fall.
Georgie inched her folding chair closer but never touched her. She just sat nearby and patiently waited. Embarrassed, Aydan was desperate to get herself under control. As the tears dried up, her nose went into overdrive. What a time to not have her purse nearby! Surprising her, she felt Georgie moving closer. Panicking and humiliated, she looked up, ready to lock horns, only to see her intention for what it was, a gesture of comfort. She hadn’t touched her or anything weird. Her boss, the majority owner of this respected and successful company, was sitting here in her expensive suit with her boyish haircut and what was she doing? She’s handing me a hanky of all things. She accepted the soft cotton handkerchief, wiping her eyes before politely dabbing at her nose.
“Blow it,” Georgie ordered with a maternal grin. “Good cry…good blow. Feel better?”
It was hard not to smile or ignore the charm of this woman. Maybe that’s what she had missed, that aspect of her the rest of the team so readily recognized. She blew her nose with the gusto of a toddler who had just mastered the trick. After patting her face dry she sat up straighter, desperate for a modicum of composure. “Why are you being so kind to me? I haven’t exactly been—”
“Why not?”
“What…you, it’s not exactly business as usual.”
“Why not?” Georgie repeated with the look she had seen before, whenever one of the engineers would tell her something couldn’t be done. Aydan had learned she would accept a no-can-do but it had to come with a precise explanation. And she was usually right to push. The answers were there. Even as the team intern, she knew some of the things they fought against were doable. She had to give her boss credit for that. She never forced them to back down. She would send them away to research their arguments. That usually ended up being all the catalyst they needed to give it another go or look at things from a different perspective. She liked that.
“I like working here, a lot. It doesn’t feel like a conveyer belt. You really let everyone dig into the new ideas and new technologies. It can’t be the most cost effective way to run a company.”
Georgie shook her head, admitting it without rancor. “My Tyler worries. We,” she indicated the two of them, “duty to innovate…help. We can help.”
“Why is that important? I mean, I think it’s the way to go, but I was told by my professors it was naïve. One even accused me of being a communist!”
That made Georgie laugh, “Professor Mironelli?”
“What, how did…you really know those guys over there. Oh, he was always pounding us on cost of innovation.”
“Rebel Rifle?” she asked with a wicked grin.
“Oh God! I thought his head would explode when one of the students brought it up as argument against his costing algorithms. Wait, how did you know?”
Georgie tapped her chest with pride. “I wrote it…back when…”
“You wrote the Seven Cents Per Life paper?” Now she was laughing too. “He was so steamed he just stormed out of the lecture hall. He must have gone straight to the dean. We could hear him screaming one floor down. What an ass. He actually tried to argue that Rebel had made the right call by investing an extra three cents in product insurance instead of spending the seven cents to fix the safety fault. I was so mad! Listening to him go on and on about cost over everything else and all I could think about was all those people who died because spending seven cents didn’t compute.” She bristled at the memory. “Why do they let people like that teach?”
“Tenure.”
Nodding her understanding she added, “I heard a rumor. They say that happens every semester, him getting clobbered with your paper.” It seemed crazy that her boss could somehow influence students at UB, but the grin on the woman’s face said otherwise.
“Plenty like him…”
“But if you can get a few students to question what they are being taught?”
Georgie just nodded. Clearly she agreed, but more than that she was doing something about it, both with her business and with old bean counter Mironelli. “May I ask…personal, questions?”
Would she? Suddenly fearful again, she pushed past her discomfort. How bad could it be if the woman was asking permission? That was something to consider too. Had anyone ever asked her permission or even her opinion within her own family? Not since her father died. Realizing that, the tears threatened again.
“You are in…trouble?”
How could she explain, how could she let her see how out of control her life was, how much she hurt? This woman was a stranger. How could she possibly understand the demands her family made? How could she understand the threat of losing your family, the people who cared and loved you? The people who threw me out for not being what they want!
“Aydan…please.”
And that was all it took. As the renewed tears cascaded down her cheeks, the entire story poured out without restraint. She talked about her father being an engineer and her love for him. The night after night he would spend at the kitchen table helping her with math and physics homework. She spoke of his praise and support, and then his untimely death. It had rocked the Ferdowsi household and upset the balance of power. Since her freshman year at UB, her mother had been calling the shots with counsel from her elderly and extremely traditional parents and had fallen prey to what she believed was an ultra-conservative mindset.
Aydan had begun her undergraduate career as a full-time student. By her second semester that had been whittled down to one course while she helped in caring for her elderly grandparents and her younger brothers. She had younger sisters too, but unlike her they had serious boyfriends which somehow earned them a pass in her mother’s eyes. The worst part was how quickly her younger brothers had gone from being the fair-minded and inquisitive boys her father raised to the close-minded little bastards their grandfather so easily influenced. That she could even continue at school with one course probably only happened because her father had set aside money in his will for her education. Aydan was sure he knew how easily her mother would be influenced by her own father once he was gone. What he could not have anticipated was how easily her brothers had gravitated to a place of prominence and influence in their mother’s world. And they had reveled at being given authority over her.
“They have control of my life, my brothers I mean.” Realizing more explanation was probably needed, even for her empathic employer. She began again, “I was born in 1980, in Paris. We had just escaped from Iran, my family I mean. My father was American. He was a military adviser and assigned to my grandfather’s command. He was a general and a cruel man, but still he allowed my mother to marry my father. Sometimes,” she admitted, “I wondered if he did it to save themselves. My mother was very beautiful. I imagine the only daughter of a high-ranking general could have any man she wanted. Choosing my father may have saved her life and those of her parents. I have three uncles; one was just a boy and came with them. He lives in New Jersey. The other two both died in the revolution. When we came here, I think my grandparents had trouble adjusting. They often speak of their grand homes and servants as if they have been robbed of something they earned. It always irked me, but my father would be so kind. He always reminded me to sympathize with their situation. He was a good man.”
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